


Wound

by IronMain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Lucid Dreaming, Mind Reading, Relationship(s), Slow Burn, post Age of Ultron, pre civil war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMain/pseuds/IronMain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Sequel to "Tactile"*<br/>Wanda and the Vision had sensed many things together. With her floating in his mind, lending her own nervous system to him in a strange but charming partnership, even the android could feel. Their nightly experiments had evolved into a relationship that neither of them quite knew what to call. The Widow dubbed in infatuation in each other, whispering it under her breath as Wanda passed her after training. Of course, the whole exchange could have been easily imagined, as the Widow never acknowledged it again. Wanda found she had trouble remembering if she had even said anything. Not even the Vision, when nestled in the crook of her mind, could find a full memory of the strange encounter. Regardless, their mental connection was becoming a habit, and Wanda found she looked forward to feeling him inside her head each night.</p><p>She had never meant to taint the bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because 'Tactile' was so well received, I present the sequel. Written a year ago, posted now. Enjoy! 
> 
> All rights to Marvel.

Wanda and the Vision had sensed many things together. With her floating in his mind, lending her own nervous system to him in a strange but charming partnership, even the android could feel. Their nightly experiments had evolved into a relationship that neither of them quite knew what to call. The Widow dubbed in infatuation in each other, whispering it under her breath as Wanda passed her after training. Of course, the whole exchange could have been easily imagined, as the Widow never acknowledged it again. Wanda found she had trouble remembering if she had even said anything. Not even the Vision, when nestled in the crook of her mind, could find a full memory of the strange encounter. Regardless, their mental connection was becoming a habit, and Wanda found she looked forward to feeling him inside her head each night.

She had never meant to taint the bond.

The Vision had been kissing her. Red sparks floated in the air around them, marking their mental link. Wanda’s mind bobbed freely in and around his, not searching for any specific thought or emotion, merely sliding and curling throughout him. She tightened her arms around his neck, sensing the Vision’s skin react to her touch, the synthetic fibers sending an electric prickling sensation down his spine.

They had left the team dinner together, silently following each other to the sleeping quarters section of the facility. The hour way late, and most of their comrades were too content in the beer and laughs to notice them slip out. The Widow had been absent, but she often withdrew herself from more casual social situations, and Wanda did not make much of it.

At the flick of her wrist, her door had snapped open, only to close and lock itself after they were both securely inside. They had stood opposite each other, making and breaking eye contact for an eternity before either spoke.

“If you are unsure-“ the Vision started.

Wanda interrupted him by tossing her jacket on the floor and violently ripping her shirt off over her head. The Vision’s mind flared brilliantly for a moment, but he quickly regained his mental composure as she kicked off her boots. Only her jeans and brassier remained.

“Sorry, did I interrupt?” she smirked.

The Vision stood rigid. For a brief second, he allowed his eyes to travel down the full length of her body, before they suddenly snapped up towards the ceiling, irises swiveling madly about his pupils.

Wanda slowly closed the distance between them, planting herself just inches away from him, hands defiantly on her hips.

“Your turn, I believe,” she said more gently, extending her mind outwards, scarlet tendrils and sparks crackling in the air around them.

They had talked about this for many weeks. The Vision had been hesitant, often retreating from her advances, questions of his own authenticity drifting on the surface of his mind. It had taken time. It had taken discussion. It had taken a level of vulnerability and trust for which neither were truly prepared.

She felt the Vision welcome her eagerly, golden aura wrapping itself around her. Carefully, he lowered his head. Wanda watched as the golden cape, collar, gauntlets and green armor slowly disintegrated, leaving his entire upper torso bare. The Vision’s crimson skin shown slightly in the dim lighting, broken by gleaming plates of vibranium at points where internal bone structure marked a lack of joints, silver hieroglyphs on red sand.

Wanda reached her hand outwards, placing it on his forearm. Carefully, she brought his arm around her back, closing the last few inches between them. The Vision mirrored her instruction with his other arm, wrapping her in his grip and pulling her against him. Wanda felt him adjust his core temperature, slowly raising it for her. Within seconds, he was the warmest thing in the room. She pressed closer as the sudden heat contrast caused her to shiver slightly.

The Vision’s eyes were locked unwaveringly on hers, irises ghostly still. The gem in his forehead pulsed slightly, mimicking a strange heartbeat. Wanda wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him. The reaction had been overwhelming.

Their minds had all but fused.

The Vision’s golden threads had exploded into rapid activity, tightening and curling around her own red wisps. Light burned behind her eyelids, filling her mind with an alien heat. She felt his hands react to the skin of her back, marveling at its soft malleability as he adjusted them. She felt his stomach balk at the smoothness of her own torso, unused to the supple contact. She felt his shoulders tighten at her bare arms, reveling as her microscopic hairs that found their way into the equally microscopic lines etched into his substitute membranes.

She felt his desire.

She mingled it with hers.

It was several minutes before they pulled apart. Wanda panted slightly, her lower lip damp from the contact. The Vision drew no breath, but she felt her own expression mirrored in him. His brow line had knit together above his nose and his mouth hung open slightly. Wanda felt a pop of boldness in his consciousness before he placed one hand on her cheek and then traced it backward to tangle in her hair. After a brief pause, he drew her head forward and resumed their sensuous experiment.

She should have known his rational side might have been compromised by the tidal wave of sensations.

He pulled away suddenly, eyes whirring again.

“I would like to try something,” he said, his voice revealing nothing. Wanda felt the tangled excitement building at the front of his mind. Something to do with a movie, a scene, a carefully analyzed and cataloged memory. Sensing his sudden want to surprise her, she resisted the urge to probe his surface thoughts and nodded her hasty approval, heart hammering in her chest.

Wordlessly, the Vision dropped both his hands down to her thighs. All the while his cobalt eyes watched her, waiting lest her mind retract her earlier consent. He paused when they had reached the hollows of her knees.

When she did not object, he hooked his hands underneath her thighs and hoisted her upwards. Wanda felt something carnal growl, but she could not place from which mind it had come. Tightening her grip on his neck, she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting his arms support her weight. The Vision leaned in and immediately resumed their kiss.

At least one of them should have reacted to the slight shift in balance. The Vision’s sensors should have been able to register and adjust for his new center of gravity. He should have been able to catch them when he fell backwards suddenly. _She_ should have been able to catch them. Her powers were strong enough.

It was hard not to blame herself when it happened.

They hit the floor hard. Wanda rolled leftward, away from him. She felt her shoulder crush the tissue against the bone and pressed her hand where she knew a bruise was surely forming. The Vision, however, collided with the sharp corner of the bed. He landed next to her.

Wanda knew something was wrong in an instant. Think, black streaks shattered his saturated golden tone. Sharp pieces of his mind shredded her tendrils. Wanda’s hands were on her head, pressing her eyes deep into the sockets at the sudden pain.

And then she heard it.

It was as though the precise moment when something glass shattered was playing in the Vision’s mind. The sound stung Wanda’s thoughts, threatening to shred her psyche to pieces. Blinking back tears, she turned towards the Vision. He was braced against the bed now, left hand violently pressed against his right shoulder. A thick clear liquid was ballooning through his fingers. His mouth hung open, his irises spun wildly, changing direction every few seconds with a halting jerk. Every synthetic muscle and fiber was pulled taught as the Vision strained against a force that threatened to break him.

Wanda’s pain dulled immediately at the sight of him.

“Vizsh, Vizsh, _Vizsh_ ,” she hissed, scrambling to his side. The clear fluid began to drip on the carpeted floor. It ran down his forearm, creating prismatic patterns as it followed the thin trails carved by the device that created him. Wanda grabbed his face, yanking it until she met his eyes.

“ _VIZSH!_ ” she half yelled.

There was a strange choking sound and Wanda watched as his face twitched and his throat bobbed, trying desperately to create a cry that he did not know how to let out.

Wanda grabbed his damp hand and wrenched it from the wound. The cut ran like a valley between his shoulder and neck, a thick puddle of liquid bobbing in its crux, unleashing tiny streams at the end points whenever the Vision moved.

Immediately, the Vision gritted his teeth, releasing an almost angry groan as his hand automatically snapped back into place, unleashing another tidal flow of fluid down his arm.

Wanda snapped into action.

Encasing the Vision’s torso with her powers, she hoisted him to his feet, positioning herself under his good shoulder. The Vision made several choking sounds and then began to inhale and exhale in rapid succession. Wanda knew he did not breathe. The fact that he was now frightened her more than the wound.

Her mind threw the bedroom door open and within minutes she had managed to drag him part way down the hall, all the while repeating:

“We are ok, we are ok, I have you, we are ok,”

The Vision managed to form his own version of a whimper in response. After what seemed like hours, Wanda reached her destination and kicked the door in front of her as hard as she could.

The Widow was standing in the open doorframe before she could replace her foot on the ground. Dressed only in a tank top and old sweatpants, she did not strike her usual formidable appearance. Her hair was matted on one side from her pillow, but Wanda knew from her stance that there was a handgun concealed behind her.

“Maximoff?” she said quietly, revealing her loaded gun as she lowered it.

“Help!”

The Widow knit her brow and then settled her eyes on the Vision’s shoulder, as a wave of fluid coated the front of his bare chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Wanda knew the Widow was agile, but the word became an understatement in the moments that followed. In a single fluid motion, the Widow had replaced her gun in its concealed holster and transferred the Vision from his limp position atop Wanda’s shoulders to her own back. The Vision’s left arm she hooked under her chin, allowing him to continue to apply pressure to his injured shoulder. Her hands locked underneath each of his knees and she began a brisk trot down the hall, followed closely by a surprised and concerned Wanda.

“Lights!” the Widow snapped, her tone revealing nothing.

They had left the dormitory area behind and stood in a dark hallway. Wanda knew the kitchen was nearby, but she had never paid this section of the facility much attention until now. She flicked her wrist, locating the electrical socket with her mind, and doused the area in a clinical white.

The Widow released one of the Vision’s legs, allowing him to glide off her back slightly as she jammed her Avengers Access card into a slot next to a pair of double doors. The card reader beeped, the green light flashed once and the doors swung lazily inward. Passing the sagging Vision to Wanda, the Widow made her way into the room, taking large, purposeful steps. The room contained two hospice beds and was bordered by several large, metal cabinets. The Widow threw one open, revealing several emergency medical kits, blindingly orange under the fluorescent glow.

Wanda held the Vision carefully, feeling the back of her neck grow damp as the strange clear fluid dripped onto her shoulder. The Widow was at her side in seconds with two kits, one under her arm and one in hand. She grabbed Wanda’s shoulder with her free arm, leading her forcefully towards the closer of the two beds.

“Him on the bed. Start talking.”

Wanda pulled her scarlet tendrils around the Vision once more, levitating him off the floor slightly as she placed him gently on the crisp covers. Several drops of liquid collected at his armpit where his body made an indent in the mattress.

“We were-“, Wanda started.

“I know what you were, how did this happen?” The Widow barked without raising her voice.

Wanda consciously folded her arms, covering her half naked torso. “We fell over and he hit the corner of the bed.”

“He _fell_?” The Widow repeated, genuinely surprised. She turned back to the Vision, removing his hand from the gaping cavity. Carefully, she began lining the gash with clean bandages. The Vision let out another groan and his eyes squeezed shut. The tendons in his arms strained, causing his hand to contort in visibly painful arches.

“His base composition is vibranium,” the Widow finished.

“That only absorbed percussive force,” Wanda explained, remembering the more pragmatic conversations she had with him, “He has tissue as well.”          

The Widow turned to the second med kit, fishing though it until she found a small glass vile and a syringe. She jammed the needle into the cover, letting the silver nose dive into the watery substance and drawing a fair amount into the neck. Placing the vile onto the table, she reached for the Vision’s arm, but abruptly stopped.

Wanda sensed both confusion and realization at the same time.

“How is he in pain?” The Widow asked quietly, slowly turning to Wanda.

Wanda stared at her for a moment.

“What?”

 “How is he feeling this?” she asked more forcefully, pointing towards the Vision’s trembling shoulder. His eyes were still shut and Wanda could hear his unnecessary breathing, sharp and ragged in conversation’s pause.

“What do you m-“

“He is an android. He does not have a nervous system. He cannot feel pain. How is he _in_ pain?” The Widow had lost her patience.

The Widow’s realization dawned on Wanda.

“ _Me,_ ” she squeaked, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. She raised both her hands to her mouth in an effort to stifle her sob.

“Get out of his head. Get out of his head now.”

The Widow had dropped the syringe back into the med kit and was quickly approaching Wanda. The wisps and sparks snapped wildly around Wanda’s head, revealing their presence. They had not left when the fall occurred.

“Out. Now,” The Widow repeated. She grabbed Wanda’s shoulders. The wisps and sparks flared.

“I’m trying,” Wanda released her mental fingers, unclasping them from their counterparts in the Vision’s own mind. The Vision’s eyes snapped open and he arched his back, kicking at the sheets as his hand snapped back to his shoulder. A loud, untested cry filled the room. Wanda let out another sob.

“OUT!” The Widow shook her, forcing her attention to meet her eyes.

“I can’t without hurting him mor-“

Wanda’s teary response was cut short as the Widow’s hand came into contact with her cheek.

The connection severed.

The cry faltered.

Painted nails traced the tender mark where the Widow had slapped her. Wanda slowly raised her head to meet her gaze, trembling both with fear and rage. Her anger dissipated at the sound of a small whimper.

Wanda whirled around and watched the Vision slowly rise into a sitting position. He turned his head and examined his half bandage shoulder, his glistening hand slowly retreating from the wound. The mimicked heavy breathing had cease. Slowly, his half naked form still trembling, he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

The room fell into an unpleasant silence.

The Widow was the first to move, striding towards the Vision. She placed a thick strip of gauze over the opening in his shoulder and set his left hand atop it.

“Hold the bandage there until I get back,” she ordered, gently.

The Vision nodded, never once looking away from Wanda.

The Widow departed, leaving the double doors swinging in her absence. Wanda took a small step towards the Vision, letting her arms drop to her sides.

“Vizsh?” she asked quietly, trying to hold her voice steady.

The Vision’s brow was knotted tensely over his eyes and his mouth hung partially open.

“I n-“, he started, but faltered as something caught in his throat.

He coughed.

“I never kn-“, he choked for a second time, “Why-“

It was as though a small explosion had occurred at the back of his throat. Air rushed from his nose. He placed his hand over it, sucking it back in pathetically.

“It hurt,” he staggered, dropping his head.

Wanda carefully closed the distance between them, bending her knees so her head was level with his.

“Vizsh?” she nearly whispered.

He raised his eyes towards her, blue irises still. Wanda saw her own reflection in the blackness of his pupils. She furrowed her brow, then raised it as a single drop of clear liquid formed at the corner of the Vision’s eye and began a solitary descent down his face.

“ _Why_ _did it hurt_ _so much_?”

The sob broke free, shaking the Vision’s shoulders upon exit.

“Vision,” Wanda breathed, throwing her arms around his neck, letting him settle his head on her shoulder. He clung to her like a frightened child, torso expanding and contracting unevenly as his synthetic body tried to execute a task it had never performed.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Cho was kind enough to not ask too many questions. Only the information pertinent to the Vision’s recovery ever came up in discussion. The Widow had made the call and Cho was ready and waiting when the Quinjet had touched down in Seoul to take her to the facility, cradle packed for shipping. Neither of them felt any need to announce their sudden journey. Cho and the Widow were discreet. They understood the delicacy of the circumstance.

Wanda wished she could say the same for the others.

Wilson and Rhodes whispered in hushed tones that ceased whenever she entered the room.

Captain Rogers gave her strange looks, as though he were about to request a meeting, but then decided against it.

Various crew members throughout the facility averted their eyes whenever she entered.

It was politeness gone wrong.

The Vision was unconscious by the time the cradle began printing his new tissue cells, his mind a low hum of muted, golden tones. Wanda sat beside it, tapping her foot impatiently. It would be several hours before the process was complete, but her thoughts prevented her from sitting still or focusing on anything other than his blank expression as the machine whirred around him.

“The vibranium atoms are rebinding, as I thought they would. The tissue was damaged, but it is possible it will also begin to reform once the vibranium does. If not, I have enough material to manually bond it.”

Dr. Cho swiped several files off to the edge of the screen, satisfied with her readings.

“How could he have sustained an injury given his vibranium base?” the Widow asked.

“The vibranium was not damaged, merely moved apart. The wound is deep not wide, so most of the pressure was applied to an extremely finite area.”

“Any side effects from all this?”

“He won’t even have a scar.”

The Widow nodded curtly.

“Not a physical one,” Wanda found herself thinking out loud.

Cho turned her attention to her, expression sympathetic.

“He is going to be all right.”

“No,” Wanda said, standing to leave. The room was pressing in around her, squeezing whatever force had kept her calm through the cracks in her psyche. A memory of black shards tearing through gold and scarlet flashed in front of her eyes.      

“He is not.”

The Widow grabbed her wrist, twisting it slightly so Wanda was forced to turn and face her.

“Cho can heal his physical wound, the rest is for you two to work out together,” she released her arm, letting Wanda take a step back.

“I did not know he could cry,” Wanda said quietly.

The Widow’s features softened without truly changing.


	4. Chapter 4

Wanda was asleep when she heard the knock. It had taken hours for her to finally doze off, her mind wandering and contracting in the room around her, trying to forget the sharpened pain that had ripped away at it. She rose, and quietly slid the door open, expecting Dr. Cho, or even the Vision himself. The sight of the Widow surprised her.

“Suit up. Briefing room four in ten,” she said, her mechanical tone betraying nothing of their previous midnight encounter.

Wanda took a slight step back as the Widow transferred a large pile of winter clothes into her hands and then turned down the hall to leave.

“I apologize for striking you,” the Widow said curtly, before she was out of earshot.


	5. Chapter 5

The briefing room was half full when Wanda arrived. It had taken her longer than ten minutes to fully assemble the snowsuit around herself. Thick, black snow pants, lined in a smooth, water-resistant liner, a wool sweater, a deep scarlet jacket, two pairs of socks and a worn earflap hat, all slightly too big for her, hissed and screeched quietly around her every time she moved. By the time she had walked to the arranged meeting place, sweat had begun to prickle on her skin.

“Maximoff,” Captain Rogers nodded as she entered and closed the door behind her.

Rhodes, the Widow and Wilson were already seated around the table, all adorned in some form of winter wear. Though Rhodes wore his armored suit, Wanda could see a green felt liner sticking out at the edges of his open faceplate. Wilson wore a thick jacket underneath his chest piece. The Widow’s leather costume seemed thicker than usual, and a fur hood hung on her back.

“We can begin,” Captain Rogers continued. Wanda took a seat. “Earlier today, the United States military recived a call stating that the regularly scheduled supply plane, Winfly, was unable to reach McMurdo station in Antarctica. It had to turn back after a category 4 storm made progress impossible. McMurdo is now dangerously low on supplies, as the plane was scheduled to arrive after their six month winter session. Other international stations in the region have been in contact with McMurdo, but are unable to travel to it to provide aid. In short, the station is in trouble if it cannot get supplies.”

A Doppler radar image appeared on the screen behind him.

“The storm shows no signs of slowing for the next few days. Several analysts have predicted it could last for as many as twelve days. McMurdo only has enough supplies to last three.”

“Why aren’t the army handling this?” Wilson asked.

“They don’t have any orders yet because there is an argument over who has jurisdiction. Several politicians are having a field day with it.”

“Muck talk, little action,” The Widow surmised.

“Exactly,” Rogers nodded. “However, we, as an internationally recognized team, do not have an jurisdiction limitations. And we are now the first response team. Quinjet 1 is being been loaded with enough supplies to hold the station over until the storm ends. We will be heading from here to Cape Caneveral, where we will drop a physical copy our inventory list and manifest with the boys at NASA and then we will be flying straight to Antarctica.”

“Why NASA?” Rhodes piped.

“They'll deal with all the paperwork. They care that it gets done, not who does it.” The Widow said briskly, rising.

“This is a simple drop and go operation. Romanoff, you’re pilot. Wilson, co-pilot. Rhodes, emergency vehicle response and radio duty. Maximoff, this part is tricky.”

Wanda met his gaze.

“The storm has winds up to one hundred fourteen miles per hour and the jet will not be able to handle the fluctuations as we make our final approach. You’re in charge of keeping us steady. Will that be manageable?”

Wanda considered the request for a brief moment.

“I believe so.”

“Good. We leave in ten. Get your things.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ten turned out to be a lot longer than Wanda expected. Half an hour later, the Quinjet was still in the bay, crewmembers scurrying around it as the bolted and strapped the crates of supplies into the cargo hold. Wilson and Widow were seated at the front, the Widow in the pilot seat. She barked orders into the head set, checking all the systems while Wilson performed the engine checks on the control panel behind her. Captain Rogers directed several crewmembers through the hold. Rhodes hovered around the ship’s exterior, checking for structural weaknesses and running diagnostics given the temperature stresses they were bound to encounter at the bottom of the world.

Wanda sat alone on one of the metal benches that lined the ship’s walls, running though her own checklist.

“Sudden drop, apply bottom force evenly, loss of cabin pressure, create a vacuum to maintain internal conditions, large wind shifts, wrap the jet and-“

Her mental breakdown of every possible calamity and her appropriate response was interrupted by the appearance of the Vision walking up the loading plank. He was deep in conversation with a female SHIELD crewmember, who was showing him something on a tablet. After several minutes, he nodded and she departed. He turned towards the jet cargo hold and finally spotted Wanda.

Neither of them moved.

Wanda stood slowly. As gently as she could, she stretched the surface area of her mind out towards him. She felt the edge of his thoughts, but in a split second, he had mentally retreated from her, drawing himself into the core of his mind.

The adamant rejection shocked her.

“Vizsh?” she said quietly, taking a step towards him.

He quickly ducked past her, skirting around her as though she were a venomous snake. Wanda felt muted black coils twist around his mind as he went.

“Vision! Briefed?” Wanda heard the Widow call from the front of the jet.

There was a moment of consternation as the remaining crew rushed from the jet and Rhodes arched down into the open loading mouth before the Quinjet vibrated off the ground and the hanger doors began to grind open. Rhodes and Captain Rogers took seats opposite Wanda pulling down the heavy seatbelts and fastening them over their torsos.

“Ready?” Rogers called to her over the roar of the engines. Wanda glanced at the front of the ship where the Vision stood braced behind the pilot and co-pilot chairs. Beyond the glass of the cockpit windows, the night sky opened its maw before them. The Widow closed the hatch door as the Quinjet hummed towards the exit, dust flying around it.

Wanda extended her mind towards the Vision, searching for the inviting golden hue. When she found no such familiarity, she turned back to Rogers.

“Yes.”

The lie tasted bitter in her mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

The stop at Cape Canaveral was briefer than expected. Only the Widow disembarked, returning up the loading ramp within minutes.

“We’re now logged as international cargo. We have the all clear,” she said quickly, again strapping herself into the pilot’s seat. “Activating hyper drives, all engines on. How we looking, Falcon?”

“Systems responding nicely, all green,” Wilson replied, grinning slightly as the Stark-modified engines purred to life.

“Everyone strap down,” the Widow said, as the jet eased off the ground, spinning slightly during its vertical assent.

Wilson took the open seat next to Wanda. The Vision sat towards the front, turning himself slightly so that his face was invisible to them all.

“Glad to see our resident android is feeling better,” Wilson said quietly, half-whispering it to Wanda, “We’re gonna need some one who can pass through anything if this storm is as bad as the radar says.”

He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her eye.

“Are you feeling better?”

Wanda felt the details orbit the surface area of his mind. He knew she had been there at the time. He knew she had felt the pain, too. He knew she bore the wound as much as one physically unaffected could.

He did not know the half of it.

Wanda nodded, eyes still locked on the Vision’s hunched form, preferring to not savor another lie.


	8. Chapter 8

Wanda had not realized she had dozed off until the turbulence shook her awake. The jet had fallen into a comfortable darkness, the small lights that lined the central aisle casting everything in soft silhouettes. Captain Rogers was still opposite her, his shield creating the illusion that his entire upper body was a large sphere. Wilson snored gently next to her. Rhodes armored faceplate was down, and she could not tell if he was awake or not. The Widow was still at the helm.

It had been hours since their departure. Wanda had spent the first half of the trip casting her glances between the Vision and the floor. Despite the length of the journey, he had not moved once.

Beyond the windows at the front, Wanda could see snow slipping past the jet, caught in the airflow that bubbled around it. The last time she had checked, they had been over open water. The subdued blackness and oncoming snowflakes surprised her.

The Quinjet shook again, thrashing to the right before stabilizing. No one seemed particularly bothered by it.     

Wanda caught a flash of red by the emergency side door across the isle. The jet’s exterior wing lights sent small rounded beams through the tiny portholes in the doors immediately below them. The Vision stood next to the farthest one, his face close enough to the glass that one good jostle might have resulted in a broken nose. Wanda’s skin prickled at the thought of him being injured again. Standing slowly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, letting the reinforced straps slide over her head. Her fur-lined boots were almost silent against the rubber tread of the aisle.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered, coming to stand slightly behind him.

For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Though his cape covered his shoulders, the synthetic muscles in his arms visibly stiffened. Wanda felt a panicked crackle run along the surface area of his thoughts. The response startled her, but she remained placid, smiling sweetly as he turned slowly to face her. The light from the porthole gleamed off his vibranium skull. Deep shadows fell from his brow, nearly obscuring his face if it were not for the subtle glow of his eyes and the stone in his forehead.

“Adequate,” he said, his monotone strained.

“I am sorry I was not there when you awoke. Dr. Cho said she would fetch me when the session was nearly completed, but-“

“It was not necessary. You need not be concerned.”

There was no malice in his voice, but the words still bit.

Wanda had had enough. She let her mind loose, the scarlet tendrils invisibly stretching forward, trying to link themselves with his golden tones. They wrapped around his consciousness, trying to peel back the layer of resistance that became more obvious with each second. The Vision grimaced.

“Please…don’t,” the Vision said in a voice almost too small for her to hear.

The cabin was eerily quiet for a moment before Wanda heard the distinct hiss of the Widow’s favored curse word and the entire Quinjet dropped.


	9. Chapter 9

The quiet silhouettes vanished as the Quinjet’s emergency mode lights blared to life. Stark reds flashed as several alarms sounded, crushing the familiar silence in a panicked frenzy. Wanda felt Captain Rogers’ shield strike her shoulder as he rushed past her, sprinting towards the cockpit. The jet dropped again and listed to one side. Rhodes, his restraints unbuckled, tumbled across the aisle, colliding with and bracing himself against the wall next to Wilson. Wanda nearly followed him, flying back towards the opposite side, her already bruised shoulder hitting the rim of the other emergency door’s porthole. The Vision had taken to the air levitating gently several inches off the floor.

“What happened?” Rogers’ half barked.

“Air pocket, the pressure dropped. We’re going to get caught in another if we don’t drop lower,” The Widow said calmly. Her hair flew wildly about her as the jet was hurled mercilessly through the storm, but it was as though she were a statue, unable to break her resolute pose even if she wanted to.

“How far out are we?”

“We can reach the base in an hour if we hold this speed, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“If we go any lower the winds will tear us apart.”

“Not gonna be able to stay here either, Cap.”       

“Maximoff!” Rogers yelled over the howl of the storm around them. Wanda braced herself against the door, doing her best to make eye contact. “We need a barrier around the wing joints. The engines are either going to ice up of rip off!”

Wanda hooked her arm through a pipe, latching herself to the ship. With her free hand, she unleashed a torrent of red sparks and wisps, letting them flow over the skeleton of the jet. She felt the metal burn with the cold, bringing tears to her eyes as every muscle in her back contracted in resistance to the icy pain. The scarlet wisps found their mark, enveloping the wing joints in thick layers. Wanda felt her eyes burn with the effort as she tied her spell in place. The jet gave another violent shake.

“This thing's been upgraded to a category 5!” Rhodes called from the rear.

“Of course it has,” Wilson muttered.

“Seatbelts! Now!” the Widow yelled, her body arched over the control panel.

Wanda threw herself into the nearest open seat, shakily clasping the buckle over her stomach. Captain Rogers and Rhodes leapt into their seats, following her example. The Vision floated over to the only empty seat beside Wanda and took his place, pulling the straps down from the ceiling and buckling them in place. The Quinjet’s siren screamed in her ears, threatening to deafen her while the emergency light cast threatening shadows between it’s red pulses.

Wanda spent the remainder of the flight braced against the icy wall of the Quinjet, praying to a variety of gods she only half believed. The Widow cursed and hissed occasionally from the controls as the plane bounced through the storm’s rage. Wanda dug her nails into the padded leather of the seatbelt, turning her knuckles white. She let her mind wander, trying to find some purchase in the constantly shifting environment. In one last effort, she turned her head towards the Vision, extending her mental hand. He was already looking at her, prismatic irises spinning wildly. In the stuttering moment, Wanda thought she saw an emotion flash across his face as she brushed his mind. His pupils became momentarily smaller. His brow line dropped. His entire visage became grave without any significant changes. Wanda felt the fear before he had a chance to hide it. Contracting her reach, she focused instead on trying to hold herself in place both mentally and physically.

The Quinjet jilted along its path through the perpetual night. The seconds ticked past like hours. The fear in the cabin was palpable, but Wanda knew that the Vision’s had nothing to do with the storm as they sped on through the Antarctic darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Wanda began to suspect that crashing would have been the preferred alternative to the actual landing. McMurdo base had emerged out of the screeching darkness like a ghost, a thin dot of flickering lights in an otherwise level and black landscape. She could just make out large silo shaped buildings in the distance as the Quinjet made an uneasy descent towards a large warehouse.

“McMurdo command, this is Avengers 1, requesting entrance, over,” Natasha said calmly into her headset, hands vice-like on the controls.

“-vengers, clear f-….waiti….pop the…elcome!” the comm overheard gargled in return. The Widow took it as a sign of approval and titled the Quinjet’s trajectory.

With all the grace of a kite torn from its string, the jet plummeted, rocking back and forth as the wind changed its direction every few seconds. The snowflakes had become hardened crystals and pattered against the windows. Ice grew in the metal corners of the ship. A violent thrash shook the jet, tossing anything that wasn’t strapped down towards the rear.

“Rhodes!” the Widow barked.

“On it!” he replied, the metal faceplate snapping shut, eyes glowing red.

The Widow flipped a switch and the side door nearest the vision popped open. Hard flecks of snow exploded into the cabin, pinging off every surface. The cold pellets bit at they struck Wanda’s bare face and hands.

Rhodes dove out of the opening, slamming the door behind him. After several seconds, Wanda felt the ceiling give a slight jerk and heard the distinctive clink of metal on metal. The ship stabilized slightly.

The warehouse door cranked open, bathing the interior of the jet in a false day. Wanda squinted as the Widow carefully inched the unstable Quinjet between the garage’s bordering walls. After several minutes, the jet was entirely inside. Wanda peered through her porthole and saw the large door begin to drop down into its original position. After several seconds, the raging storm was trapped behind it.

There was a small sigh of relief from the front before the hatch dropped.

Rhodes appeared again, swooping down from the roof to join them as they began unloading the crates of supplies. Captain Rogers managed one under his arm and one over his shoulder. Wilson and the Widow piloted two electric lifts, unloading several smaller crates out the side doors and placing them on the slightly damp concrete floor. Wanda heard the creak of the hydraulic lifts as Rhodes marched down the gangplank, weighed down by two crates.

Flicking her wrists, Wanda sent five crates into the air, levitating them gently out of the cargo hold to join their siblings as they formed a neat pyramid. The Vision deposited the final one on top.

“Mission accomplished,” Wilson laughed, offering his hand to Captain Rogers to fist bump. Rogers smiled, and took the offer.

“I should say so!”

As a unified group, they turned to see several people approaching them, all clad in bright orange, worn snowsuits. Several wore goggles on their foreheads and thick work gloves.

“I can’t begin to express how happy we are that it is!”

A woman stepped forward to shake Captain Rogers’ hand, removing her slightly dirty glove. She was short, with thick legs and white hair that curled around the strap of her goggles and edge of her hat. Bright red patches adorned her cheeks and her eyes sat in deep sockets. Her thin lips were pulled back into a tight smile. She vigorously shook Rogers hand, trying to make eye contact with all of them at once.

“We were worried there for a while, but you seem to have made it through that mess all right.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle, ma’am,” Captain Rogers said politely. Several of her group had broken away, heading towards the fresh supplies. One leapt into a forklift and began to raise one of the heavier wooden crates, carrying it off to the opposite end of the warehouse.

“When they radioed that the plane couldn’t get through, we all had a right panic about it. We can’t begin to thank you enough.”

“Our pleasure,” Wilson piped.

There was a low whistle and Wanda turned to see the man on the forklift push his goggles off his face, brows dangerously close to disappearing into his wool hat.

“Did a number on yer wings there, fellas!” he said, pointing a mitten-clad hand towards the Quinjet.

For the second time that night, they all turned in unison, following the man’s gaze. The Quinjet’s wing joints were completely obscured by two thick chucks of ice that surrounded each in a faint blue ring.

“Whoa,” Rhodes breathed, his faceplate slapping open, “How did I not see that?”

Wilson gave a loud whistle, scratching the side of his head.

The Widow said nothing.

“That…is a problem,” Captain Rogers sighed in a low voice, “Rhodes!”

“Already doing it,” Rhodes quipped, his faceplate snapping shut as he spoke. After several seconds, he continued, “Ok, there are pockets of air immediately around the ball sockets, so the joints themselves are not frozen, but the ice is pretty thick. I think Maximoff’s magic stuff kept it at bay. I’m not seeing any actual damage, so it should run fine after it thaws.”

“No better place to thaw but here!” The woman laughed.

“Could we melt it off ourselves?” Rogers asked, turning to Wilson.

“You ever throw boiling water on a frozen windshield, Cap? I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“We’re grounded for the evening,” The Widow said coolly, checking a small, multipurpose wristwatch under her gauntlet. “It’s only 6:30pm. We have time for some dinner and then lights out. That is, assuming we are welcome for the evening?” She added, turning towards the stout woman.

“Our pleasure,” she said, motioning them to follow as she made her way towards the other end of the warehouse. The rest of the bright orange crew fell back into unpacking the supplies.

Captain Rogers, Wilson, Rhodes and the Widow moved past Wanda, falling into step behind their new host. Wanda turned, casting her mind gently behind herself. The Vision hung back, eyes focused on the floor. Gently, she extended her reach towards him, pushing the question that stung her conscious to the forefront.

_What have I done to deserve this?_

There was a brief moment when the Vision glanced upwards, his eyes meeting hers. His face softened without truly changing, but before he could think of a response, Wanda’s concentration was broken.

“Maximoff, hurry up!” Wilson called from behind her.   

Wanda turned towards the sound to see the group already halfway towards a small door on the other side of the warehouse. When she looked back over her shoulder, the Vision was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

The cafeteria was spacious. Wanda only truly noticed the fact because they were practically the only ones in it. The woman, Margot, had led them through the facility on a brief tour, showing them all the various labs, garages and dormitories that were immediately connected to the warehouse.

“I would advise not going outside while this thing’s bearing down on us,” she said flatly as they moved down the tray line, collecting their dinners from the heated metal bins, “The winds are likely to pick you up and toss you around before you find your footing again. Though Cecil does claim there’s a place behind the warehouse where the building creates a calm spot,” she turned and winked at them, “But I wouldn’t advise looking.”

The roof groaned above them.

Margot took them to one corner of the room, footsteps echoing off the bare, white walls. Only a few of the dangling lights were on, and long shadows cast about the space, giving it an eerie quality.

“Most people aren’t here this time of year. There’s only a couple hundred of us who keep all the machines going and functioning for the researchers when they come back in August. That’s when the weather gets nice. Most days, it only gets about twenty below.”

“Sounds like paradise,” Wilson said, feigning enthusiasm.

Captain Rogers elbowed him, but there was a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Wanda placed her tray at the table. The food crates had not been unpacked yet, and the station’s meager serving of chewy pasta with watery red sauce did nothing to satisfy her knotted stomach.

Margot kept them talking for what seemed like hours. She described the facilities summer months, the research that took, place, the friends she’d made over the years.

“Sometimes we hold a small film festival and all make shorts using only the facility and surrounding area as settings. It’s good fun,” she laughed, taking a drink from the mug of hot tea.

Wanda pushed the remainder of her dinner through the red tinted puddle on her plate.

“I’m going to retire,” the Widow cut in, standing from her spot at the table. Captain Rogers nodded.

Wanda tentatively rose and followed her. Wilson watched as she stood, but Rhodes drew him back into the conversation, saying something about an icing problem that Wanda did not quite catch.


	12. Chapter 12

The dormitory was nice enough. Usually meant to accommodate eight people, Wanda found it to be quite spacious for her and the Widow. Four bunk beds, two on each side, lined the walls. Thick, green quilts were drawn over them, completely covering the sheets and pillows in a politely unused fashion. Several small desks littered the remaining wall space, save for the far corner of the room, where two large, floor to ceiling windows opened into the eternal Antarctic night.

The Widow clicked on one of the delicate lamps strewn about the room, tossing her half full duffle bag on the nearest top bunk.

“You packed things?” Wanda asked, mildly surprised.

“I plan for the unplanned,” the Widow replied, effortlessly tossing herself up after her bag with one arm.

Wanda seated herself on the opposite bunk, crawling into the lower bed. Her snow pants were still slightly damp and left small moist lines where they touched the quilt.

“How long will we be here?” she asked at length.

“Knowing Rhodes and Wilson, only tonight. If the ice hasn’t thawed by morning, they’ll probably chop it off.”

“I am sorry about that.”

The Widow arched her neck to look at her, “You saved the wings, don’t apologize.”

The room fell into awkward silence.

“Am I forgiven?” the Widow asked quietly.

“What?”

“For my actions during our less than happy encounter. I was a bit extreme.”

“The situation called for it.”

“Maybe, but I’m trying to break a habit of leaving people on bad terms.”

Wanda considered the sentiment.

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you.”

Wanda was just about to begin taking her boot and jacket off when the Widow continued.

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

She paused, turning once again to face her strange roommate.

“For?”

“What happened.”

Wanda turned away, in no way prepared for the conversation in which she now found herself.

“I am not the one who delivers forgiveness for that.”

“So you haven’t talked to him. Not good.”

The Widow rose, removing her fur lined jacket and tossing it onto the lower bunk.

“I have. The feeling was not mutual, though.”

“Of course it wasn’t. Nobody wants to talk to someone they fear.”

Wanda froze, her back rigid.

“Fear?”

“I can smell it on people,” The Widow said in a low tone.

Wanda could not tell if she was serious or not.

When the Widow saw that she was still lost, she added, “I wouldn’t be too keen on talking with someone who caused me to experience the worst pain in my life.”

Wanda felt the blood drain from her face. Sharpened black fractals danced around the periphery of her mind, haunting her memories with their sting.

“In my experience, fear is solved with exposure,” The Widow said calmly, removing her under layer. She had stripped down to a tank top and a pair of thermal underwear pants. Shoving a toothbrush into her mouth, she walked towards the door.

“I don’t ever want to hurt him again,” Wanda said meekly.

The Widow paused in the doorframe, looking back over her shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to hear that.”


	13. Chapter 13

The facility was dark. Only utility lights glowed at the end of hallways and on tall poles set close to the buildings. Wanda passed through the corridors soundlessly. The Cafeteria was empty, the trays returned to their slots. One overhead light fixture glowed behind the far kitchen counters.

The labs were eerily empty.

The wind howled outside.

It was only a guess, but she knew in her gut it was right.

The hanger at the end of the warehouse was still dimly lit when she arrived. The metal plates that made up the roof rattled. Sawdust was strewn on the floor in random swirling patterns where the unloaded cargo had been several hours earlier. Forklifts and trucks stood abandoned and cold in semi-organized parking places. The Quinjet peacefully dripped in the center of it all.

Wanda gently passed her mind over it, letting the scarlet wisps flicker along her wrists.

There was someone sitting in the copilot’s seat.

The wisps sputtered and died.

As quietly as she could, Wanda crept towards the jet. The huge rings of ice were slightly smaller than they had been earlier that evening. Wanda could just make out the pockets of air Rhodes had found.

She knocked on the bottom of the jet, letting the sharp rap of her knuckles echo through it. Snapping her wrist, she spoke and projected her words with her mind at the same time.

“I am sorry that I scared you.”

She felt a golden hue twitch and contract somewhere beyond the jet’s icy black hull.

“I am sorry I hurt you. I did not know I was being cruel to you.”

The faint trace of the Vision’s mind stilled.

“But believe me when I say that this...this is also cruel.”

She felt no response.

The wind rattled the roof once more. 

More than anything, Wanda wanted to feel it bite against her skin.


	14. Chapter 14

Dangerous did not begin to describe it.

On either side of her, the wind whipped past in massive walls of airborne ice and snow, creating tall, twin barriers between the end of the hanger warehouse and the silo twenty meters from it.

A small pause in the violent tumult.

For the moment, her cloths were warm enough. Wanda folded her arms as she leaned against the frozen metal by the slightly ajar door. The lone orange safety light glowed dimly above it, bathing the area in its feint blaze. Within the small patch of frostbitten tundra, the wind merely snapped and curled, only mustering enough strength to pull at her exposed hair. The tears froze as the crawled down her face.

The first breath had been a punch to the gut. Her lungs choked, trying to purge the ice-laden molecules from her chest. Her eyes had watered the second she had opened the door, and her cheeks were stained with frosty trails that halted before they ever reached her chin. Her exposed face stung all over.

It reminded her of home.

For a moment, she remembered the cold nights spent curled against her brother’s back. She remembered her mother shoveling large helpings of goulash onto her plate. She remembered being wrapped in warm arms and blankets. Old walls and ghost stories. Smiling faces and worn wood floors.

She remembered the way the rubble hung suspended in the air, like an enchantment, when the city fell.

She remembered him lifting her away from her world.

The storm raged on, boxing her in, shaking the warehouse, freezing the metal sides.

It occurred to her only later that there was no need for him to use the door. An ancient creak broke the relative silence of the spared patch of ice. Wanda turned to see the Vision shut the door behind himself. Though the winds were considerably tamer near the wall of the warehouse, his cape tore away from him and danced in the minor tempests.

He took two steps towards her, standing resolute. Wanda rolled her head against the wall until she met his eyes. His features were solemn, however, with her mind she sensed the fluttering anxiety.

Only the raging storm made any noise, roaring on either side of them.

The light flickered slightly as a particularly nasty gust shook the warehouse.

“You should not be out here,” he said in his usual monotone.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Their silence resumed.

“I-“ he started, breaking the trance by looking down, “I did not mean to be cruel to you.”

Wanda pulled away from the wall and faced him.

“You are the last person I would ever want to hurt,” he said.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I know.”

“You behave as though you do not,” Wanda said, more forcefully than she meant to.

The Vision’s mind cringed. His body remained unchanged.       

“Do I frighten you?” Wanda asked, taking a small step closer to him.

The Vision met her eyes again. Now there was emotion in them. The cobalt irises had ceased their endless movement.

Wanda felt the answer before he said it.

“Yes.”

The silo gave a loud groan across the stormless ally.

The gentler winds tossed the Vision’s cape over his left shoulder.

Wanda let her eyes wander to the spot where the wound had been. The golden, metal collar blocked most of the area, and though Dr. Cho had been right about the lack of a scar, in her mind she could still see the clear liquid painting his skin.

“You are the only creature in the universe that can hurt me,” he added after several long moments.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly, fresh tears carving paths through the frozen patches on her face, “but it hurt me too.”

The Vision tilted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

Wordlessly, Wanda conjured up the memory of the black shards puncturing the golden aura. The Vision visibly stiffened as she pushed the thought towards him, brushing it against the surface area of his mind.

“You are the last person I ever want to harm. But I watched myself harm you. I felt myself harm you.”

"Wanda.”

            She closed her eyes. The tears were coming in droves now. The cold finally penetrated her clothes and she shivered. Her cheeks burned as the small droplets pricked her skin as they froze.

“And then you shut me out.”

Though she could not see him, Wanda new the Vision was standing closer to her. The winds did not buffer her arms and chest as they had before.

“I may be the only one who can make you bleed, but you are the only one who can make me cry!”

A lone sob punctuated her sentence. Several frozen flakes whipped down around them from the roof.

It happened too fast for Wanda to even remember how it occurred. In one moment, she went from standing on solid ice, her toes numb and her frame shivering, to suspended in the air, pressed firmly against the Vision’s chest. His head was buried in the crook of her neck. One arm was firmly clenched around her back while other cupped her head. She could feel each of his fingers through the lining of her hat. His noticeable height difference prevented her feet from touching the ground as he hugged her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ ,” he whispered over and over again into her neck.

Wanda wrapped her own arms around his neck, causing the snow that had gathered on her jacket to collect on his shoulders.

They held the embrace for an eternity. The snow whipped past them on curving and uncontrolled eddies while thick walls of storm winds blocked the rest out the rest of the world. At long last, Wanda slipped from his neck, body quaking. One arm still around her, the Vision led her inside to the comfortable, dark warmth of the base.


	15. Chapter 15

McMurdo’s kitchen was well stocked now that the delivered supply crates had been fully unloaded. Wanda and the Vision found a canister of hot chocolate inside one of the metal cupboards. Together they sat, alone in the empty cafeteria of the base, at an hour that may well have been considered ungodly in Upstate New York. Beyond the windows, the storm winds flung small flecks of ice and snow, scrapping the metal walls and filling the space with a haunted scratching.

Wanda wrapped her hands around her piping mug, doing her best to warm her aching fingers.

“Are you cold?” The Vision asked quietly.

Wanda sipped her cocoa, “I won’t be soon.”

“I do not believe it is safe for humans to be exposed to this kind of weather.”

“I do not believe so, either.”

Their awkward silence was louder than the storm. Wanda took a deep breath, steadying herself for the conversation that needed to be had.

“I am sorry I did not retract my mind when you fell. I let you experience a lot of pain. I did not mean to. I am sorry,” She said at length, meeting his eyes.

The Vision returned her gaze.

“I apologize for not considering your emotions in the matter and believing that distance would improve the situation. It was unfair. And…cruel of me.”

She relaxed. He had followed her lead.

“I am sorry my fear offended you,” the Vision suddenly added, “I have been trying to dissect the incident and my feelings around it for a long time, and in doing so, I have concluded that you do indeed frighten me. But please know that it is the potential for the harm you can do that frightens me.”

Wanda remained silent, surprised by his intimate openness.

“I never thought I could experience things the way humans do until we began this relationship. You have proven me wrong on many occasions. I have never experienced fear, in any form, because it requires a baseline of other emotions and sensations that were beyond my reach. Until we started…”

He trailed off, glancing away and then back at her. Wanda felt anxiety coat the outer periphery of his mind.

“I can feel pain. And I can feel fear. The first, I knew, but not to the extent that I do now. The second is alien to me, but I am willing to accept.”

The layer thickened. Wanda was sure if the Vision possessed some form of artificial heart, it would be beating rapidly by now.

“I believe that I should tell you that, despite what I have learned about myself, my affection for you will always outweigh any fear.”

The phrase hung in the air between them.

“I forgive you,” she said.

“And I you,” he replied.

Wanda felt the sting from the snap of their abrupt disconnection fade in the back of her mind. Carefully, she opened her mind, letting her scarlet tendrils expand into the chilled space. The Vision did not immediately react, but she felt the glowing familiarity of his thoughts, and extended her reach towards them. The golden aura parted for her allowing her entrance and entwinement.

Suddenly, the Vision’s focus shifted. His thoughts began to bunch and jumble, trying to steer her path within his mind. Wanda allowed her grasp to be manipulated. She felt the stream of the earlier conversation rush past her. The Vision paused her mind within it, running two moments over her in repeated succession.

_Affection._

Wanda felt the word again, followed by another, more tentative wave.

_Relationship._

The Vision’s mind burned with anxiety and anticipation as he washed her in the instances. Wanda felt the brilliant yellow cords tighten around her, trying to make her understand the sentiment they carried.

It was a statement and a question all in one.

Wanda reached her hand across the table, letting it rest halfway, palm facing upwards. The Vision stared at it for a moment, before placing his own hand atop it. She wrapped her fingers around the slowly warming synthetic fibers, skin burning where pure metal plates of vibranium had reached equilibrium with the Antarctic air earlier.

Gripping his hand tightly, Wanda encased the Vision’s new emotion within her mind, letting the scarlet tendrils share the hold with his own golden ones. The anxiety broke as he let his mind mix with hers. She felt the fear, momentarily forgotten. It was a scar, doomed to be there for the remainder of his existence. However, it was nothing compared to the sensations he presented to her now. There was confusion and anxiety and a feeling of overwhelming happiness as she embraced the sentiment. She felt the conscious decision.

“I know now that losing you over this,” he said, his voice cracking slightly at the weight of the feeling, “would hurt far more than any wound.”

The emotion was too new, too young to be properly named. Wanda’s only response was to grip his hand tighter and smile, eyes watering slightly at the purity of his revelation.


	16. Chapter 16

Two more cups of cocoa passed into Wanda’s stomach before either of them considered retiring to the dormitories.

“According to the latest reports, the storm will shift early this morning and we should be clear by later afternoon to navigate around it safely,” the Vision informed her as she led the way back to the dormitory she shared with the Widow.

“That is good. I think all this ice is making Captain Rogers nervous,” she half laughed.

She felt the Vision form a response, something analytical about Rogers’ character.

“Joke, Vizsh. Joke.”

The response passed unsaid and they continued down the hallway wordlessly, enjoying the gentle touch of each others mind.

Wanda cracked the door open slightly. Peeking tentatively around the edge, she was surprised to find the Widow absent. The meager lamp was still on, and the duffle bag was neatly piled at the foot of nearest bunk bed. Wanda opened the door and entered.

“She is not here,” she said flatly.

“Should we be concerned?”

Wanda considered her surroundings for a moment, “No. She has probably gone to stretch her mind.”

The Vision considered the phrase.

“She is restless. I can feel her insomnia some nights.”

He simply nodded.

“I should sleep,” she added, rubbing her aching eyes. The base had thawed her muscles and now they begged her for rest.

“I will leave you be.”

Wanda heard the words, but their ensnared minds revealed something different.

“What?” she asked, trying to decipher the sudden change in emotions.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are upset.”

“I-“

“You don’t want to leave!” she laughed.

Wanda thought she saw the Vision’s eyes grow slightly wider and his skin slightly redder.

“I never said-“

“You thought.”

The Vision pursed his lips and looked away. Wanda cracked a lopsided smile. He was quite adorable with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Can you not see my thoughts on that as well?”

“I’d rather not spy,” she said, walking towards her bunk.

She knelt down and began to untie her boots. Several shards of ice came loose beneath the laces and fell to the floor, creating small puddles where they landed.

“It is difficult,” he began.

Wanda felt a pang a sadness gallop across his mind.

She turned, smile fading. The Vision stood, eyes fixed on his feet. A strange longing surrounded his mind.          

“When you are the only thing that cannot sleep.”

Standing, Wanda walked back to where he occupied the doorframe.

“You are sad that you cannot sleep?”

“I regret that I do not get a choice in the matter. My body does not require the type of REM cycles that a human one does.”

“I have seen you sleep.”

“I was shut down. I have no memory of the instance.”

“You were dreaming. I could feel it.”

The Vision tilted his head, confused by her response.

“I have no memory of it, then.”

Wanda reached her hand up to her face, inserting her thumbnail between her teeth. She chewed it quietly for a moment.

“Perhaps it is like sensations. You require a guide.”

The Vision furrowed his brow, “I do not understand what you m-“

"Would you like to dream?”

The Vision stood motionless.

“Or at least remember it?”

There was a tangible pause. The Vision stared at her for a long moment before looking down. Wanda felt his mind waver between fervent approval and a dull reservation.

“You are afraid,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

“Because of our last…experiment’s,” she chose the word carefully, “outcome.”

He glanced upwards at her, “Fear is proving the most difficult of emotions to conquer.”

“That does not surprise me.”

They stood in the doorframe for several more seconds.

“I will not feel insulted if you choose distance this time.”

The Vision titled his head, leaning in towards her, “I do not recall rejecting your offer.”

 Wanda tilted her head to match his, “Your thoughts are a bit jumbled right now. A direct answer would be appreciated, Vizsh.”

He pursed his lips, letting his mind scamper about her embrace as he worked out a proper response.

“I am eager to resume our… rituals. But, I wonder if we might…take it slow?”

Wanda raised her eyebrows, surprised by his vernacular.        

“Is that not the term?”

“No, I understand.”

Gently, she took his hand in hers and led him into the room. With a flick of her wrist, the door closed behind them. Wanda led him over to the lower bunk next to her own chosen bed. Wordlessly, she directed him to lie down.

The Vision reclined, resting his head a few inches from Wanda’s own pillow. Stripping off her snow pants and jacket, she pulled back the covers and climbed in, placing her own head so that it almost touched his.

She tilted her head upwards, straining to see his form over the curve of her forehead.

“Comfortable?”

“I believe so.”

Wanda extended her mind towards his, letting her scarlet fingers orbit his consciousness. She felt his nervousness. Uncertainty. Anxiety. She felt the palpable fear as the memory of their previous night together played somewhere in his pulsing psyche. At her mental touch, he settled, reaching out to welcome her with his own thoughts. Her presence calmed whatever storm might rage within his mind.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered, flicking her hand.

The light on the other side of the room extinguished, plunging them into comfortable darkness. Wanda closed her own eyes, relaxing back into the goose down pillow and letting her mind wander over the bridge they had built.


	17. Chapter 17

Wanda did not remember falling asleep. Groggily, she waded through an empty landscape, scarlet ribbons swirling around her, as though the air was ether. The ground beneath her feet did not feel solid, yet she found she could push off it. No noise penetrated the blackness around her. It was as though a blanket had been thrown over the world, muffling it.

She extended her mind, letting the thick cords around her reach into the darkness.

_Am I dead?_

The voice came from everywhere, softly engulfing her. She turned, but found no point of origin.

_Are you there?_

“Vizsh?” she called, shocked by the way her voice seemed to grow faint.

_Is this dreaming? I don’t think I like it…_

Wanda began to panic. There was only black emptiness around her. Scarlet tendrils whipped and cracked in the vast space, trying to locate some form of purchase.

She felt it.

Almost directly in front of her, the blackness cracked. A thick, brilliant line shattered the blank space, creating forks as it went, carving the entire area into shards. Wanda reached out, trying to place her hand on the surface, but found it beyond her touch.

“Vizsh!” she yelled again.

The space continued to fragment.

She had found the scar.

She could almost taste the fear.

It was the wrong memory entirely.

Wanda took a deep breath, retracting her scarlet ribbons.

“Vision…nothing can hurt you in here,” she said quietly.

Silence.

“I won’t ever let anything hurt you.”

She felt something shift behind her. Turning, she came face to face with the Vision, or at least her memory of him. He tilted his head, gazing down at her with the same lucid fascination with which she looked at him.

“That does not seem like a rational promise,” he said, his voice sounding strangely muffled in the black ocean.

“You cannot always combat fear with logic.”

The Vision cocked his head slightly, considering the statement.

“I do not want to be afraid,” he said, at length.

“Nobody does,” she said, quietly. Gently, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

“I do not know…how to address it.”

Anxiety and sadness lined his voice. His features softened, becoming so consumed with his emotions Wanda nearly forgot that a majority of his time was spent speaking in monotones with an unreadable expression.

“I do not want to be governed by something over which I exhibit no control.”

Suddenly, Wanda heard an echo. It bounced off the non-existent walls of the landscape, rattling the cracks as they carved they way outwards. The Vision released her hand, snapping his arm up to his shoulder. His fingers covered the sight where a scar would have been. The memory of his scream faded, but Wanda heard the soft, panicked breaths in the air.

“What you fear,” she said, taking his other hand in hers, gently removing it from the healed skin, “is fear itself.”

The Vision stared at her, “How do I overcome it?”

Wanda shook her head, never once breaking eye contact, “You do not. You learn not to be controlled by it.”

She felt his coming response all around her, but before it could pass his lips, the scene shifted. Bombshell sounds filled the air. Unfamiliar cries and the faint smell of loose plaster floated unseen. The Vision turned his head, trying to place their origin. Wanda took a deep breath, letting the sound of small feet, carefully skirting a dud shell, envelope them.

“It takes time, but you learn how to be brave.”

The Vision returned his gaze to her.

“I do not believe I have experienced that feeling.”          

“Give it time,” she smiled, “You will. It is part of being human.”

"You see me as a human?”

“In a synthetic body. Yes.”

The Vision raised his brow line slightly, surprised by her response.

“Humans suffer. Humans feel pain. Feel compassion. You can do all these things.”

“I do not think it is the same as-“

“It is,” she cut him off.

The Vision glanced away for a moment, and then returned his gaze to her. His mind was a tempest of confused emotions: fear, anxiety, relief…and a warm light that Wanda was growing used to seeing.

Wanda closed her eyes, exhaling loudly. She felt her ankles grow cold and damp. There was a splash and her eyelids flicked open to see the Vision staring down as the slate black ground, now covered with a foot of clear liquid. The smell of sea salt filled the air around them. Small eddies and currents tugged at his golden cape. He looked up at her, surprised by their sudden change of environment.

“I love it when I dream of the ocean,” she said quietly.

The Vision stared at her for a long moment. Behind him, Wanda saw the cracks in the blackness begin to recede and fade, retracing their paths until the world was a smooth canvas once more. Slowly, like gentle pin pricks, tiny spots of light began to appear above. They popped into being in strange patterns Wanda thought she recognized.

“Is this you?” she asked, nodding upwards.

The Vision looked up.

“I believe so.”

Wanda gave him a quizzical expression.

“It is the night sky currently as it can be seen from Upstate New York.”

Wanda smiled.

“You know, in dreams there are no rules. You can make your own night sky if you wish.”

“I am afraid I’m not terribly good at creating fictions,” a faint smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. The last star had assembled above them while seawater gently lapped around their ankles.

“We can work on that next,” she grinned.


	18. Chapter 18

The Widow’s neck ached. Even when she was not immediately in danger, she could never quite get her muscles to fully relax. Somewhere in the northern hemisphere, the sun had already risen over their base, but outside the eternal night continued, broken by the shrieks of the Antarctic winds. She found herself wishing the storm would break early so she could experience the noon day night and see the aurora first hand.

No such luck, though.

Turning the door handle, she pushed the dormitory door inward, tossing her towel onto her bunk. Yoga had helped stretch her back, but it was hardly worth going to sleep at this point. With a deep sigh, she made for her bag, searching for the coffee tablets she kept on hand. The base’s brew was nice, but not nearly strong enough. Before she managed to grasp the zipper, she heard a small noise from the other side of the room.

The Widow turned. Maximoff was asleep, body curled tightly around the blanket and quilt.

That the Widow had expected.

What she hadn’t expected was the Vision, lying like a cadaver in the lower bunk next to her, the top of his head nearly touching hers.

The Widow paused and sat on the edge of the bunk beneath her own. Squinting, she could just make out faint traces of scarlet threads, snapping and waving between them. She stared for a long moment, curiosity winning over. Suddenly, Wanda let out a contented sigh and turned over, a faint smile playing on her lips. The Widow glanced at the Vision. Though she couldn’t be sure without investigating to a point of intrusion, she thought she saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly. Grabbing her tablets, she pocketed them and made for the door.

 


	19. Chapter 19

The cafeteria was just coming to life when she arrived. Rhodes and Rogers were seated at a small table, half a pot of coffee and a deck of cards between them. Wilson was no doubt still asleep. A staff member shuffled past her as she made to join them, muttering a groggy, “Good morning.”

She nodded and took her seat.

“Sleep well?” Rogers asked, shuffling his hand. She could tell from his expression that he did not like his cards.

“As well as usual,” she said, smirking.

“You don’t have it,” Rhodes laughed, eyes flicking between Rogers and his own cards.

“You don’t know that.”

“You’ve got a worse poker face than Tony.”

Rogers shrugged.

“Wilson still asleep?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rhodes said, popping the final ‘p’, “He’ll be up soon enough. The storm will break later this afternoon, so we’ll be all clear to head out tonight.”

“Tonight being relative,” Rogers laughed, reshuffling his hand, trying desperately to make it something it wasn’t.

“Maximoff and Vision are out cold.”

The two of them paused, turning to look at her.

“What?” said Rhodes.

“They’re both asleep.”

“He can sleep?”

“It sure looked like it.”

“Where?”

“In our dormitory.”

“Together?”

“In the same room, yes.”

“What are they doing sleeping in the same room?”

The Widow glanced at both of them, before reaching for the deck and dealing herself a hand. Rhodes exchanged a look with Rogers, but Rogers simply returned to his cards.

“Healing,” she said at last, having finally found the right word.

The two of them simply nodded.

           

 


End file.
